


A Cage of Your Own Design

by pickedaxe



Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment
Genre: Blackmail, Boss/Employee Relationship, Degradation, Drugged Sex, Love Hotels, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Romantic Delusion, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Violence, Spoilers, Stalking, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickedaxe/pseuds/pickedaxe
Summary: Ayabe should have been more careful, but it's too late now.
Relationships: Ayabe Kazuya/Kuroiwa Mitsuru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	A Cage of Your Own Design

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TofuplusBeast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TofuplusBeast/gifts).

> Warnings:  
Non plot spoilers regarding the true nature of a character.  
Sexual violence  
Sexual coercion  
Noncon drug use  
Noncon
> 
> Please don't read if this or any of the tags make it unsafe for you to consume.

The first time he’d met Kuroiwa, what stood out most to him was his attractiveness. Not just his face, which was apparently ageless, but his whole demeanor. What he wore, the way he carried himself - it all came together in one package. He wouldn’t have blinked twice seeing him shilling cologne or watches on a billboard somewhere. He’d almost been stunned. What was a guy like that doing as a cop? If he looked like that, he wouldn’t be caught dead in the kind of life he was leading now. 

That first sting of jealousy had set the tone for their relationship. People like that didn’t hang around with people like him. Kuroiwa was immediately popular. Ayabe was as antisocial as ever. Kuroiwa had tried to get him to open up, and he’d rebuffed him at every turn. 

From there, things had further soured. Ayabe wasn’t actually so bad at his job, if he said so himself, despite his appearance and side activities. Yet Kuroiwa managed to find issues with everything he did. Some were legitimate mistakes - everyone made them - but if he couldn’t find that, he’d chew him out for spelling errors and other equally mundane things. It seemed like he was in his office almost every day. It was easy to see how his initial annoyance had morphed into outright hatred - Kuroiwa had practically made sure it would happen. 

It was almost funny thinking about it now, as he followed him into the hotel room. 

The room was pretty classy, as far as love hotels went, anyway. It still borrowed some of the dramatic hues they were known for, deep reds and gauzy blacks, but there were no neon lights and rotating beds here. Not the most expensive option in town, but not the cheapest either. Yeah, it was the kind of place he expected an uptight dickwad like Kuroiwa to choose. It gave him an initial sense of relief - at least there were no glaringly obvious signs of any weird kinks - but it was short-lived. 

Kuroiwa had advanced into the room, already shedding his jacket, but Ayabe stood frozen at the entrance, doubt and dread once again anchoring him to the floor. What if someone had seen them come in together? Knowing Kuroiwa, he would probably be able to spin it to make it sound like Ayabe was coercing _him_. And then he’d be in the worst of all situations - fired, maybe arrested, and still having had sex with Kuroiwa. 

But he already knew he had no choice.There was no backing out of this. Kuroiwa had all the dirt on Ayabe he’d ever need. 

He’d shown him the file. Obsessively detailed sheets filled with dates, locations, pictures, all neatly and logically recorded. It was clear he’d had his eye on him practically since they started working together. It recontextualized all their previous encounters: Kuroiwa was always micromanaging him because he was always _watching_ him. 

He had let him flip through the file, to show he was serious, but what was really disturbing wasn’t all the evidence of his side job. There were a lot of unrelated pictures too. Stuff he couldn’t imagine a reason for needing. He’d stared at a picture of himself, in his apartment, getting ready for bed, until Kuroiwa had snatched the file away from him.

With the things he had, he could get him shipped off to prison for a long, long time. And then, even if he got out, what would he do? Who would hire a disgraced ex-officer like him?

He had offered to split his earnings. He figured that was the entire reason he’d bothered showing him the evidence he built up in the first place. It had even given him a little satisfaction, in the face of it all, knowing his ‘perfect’ boss was just as greedy as anyone else. But Kuroiwa had smirked, like he was sharing some private joke with himself, and simply asked that he meet him near the Hotel District that night. It didn’t take a genius to guess at what he meant, though he’d kinda hoped otherwise right up until they’d checked in. 

At least, he figured, he had something Kuroiwa wanted, not that he ever would have guessed it with the way all the women in the office fawned over him. No wonder he never took any of them up on those coffee dates.

But facing the actual prospect, the reality of letting his boss fuck him… it was a lot. He hadn’t seen anyone in a while. That alone would make him nervous. With Kuroiwa, he was practically nauseated. Did he expect him to pretend to like it? He sure hoped not. 

“--What’s the matter, Ayabe-kun?”

Kuroiwa was looking at him, a soft half-smile on his face. Maybe it was meant to calm him, but it was just creepy. He never smiled at him like that. It was the patronizing look he might give those women at work, or old ladies on the street, but there was something dark eclipsing it. Lust? His stomach felt that much queasier. 

“Nothing,” he bit out, taking two steps into the room and tossing his coat on the side sofa.

“You seem nervous. I’m surprised,” Kuroiwa said, stepping towards him, like he was unwilling to let him put too much space between them.

“I’m sure some of your clients would pay for more than just information. I didn’t think you were the type to turn down extra cash.”

Fucking creep. He wanted to say _you should know, shouldn’t you, you goddamn stalker,_ but instead he turned from him with a disgusted little noise, and headed toward the bed. Just get it over with. Go home. Sleep and pray that he’d been so unsatisfying that Kuroiwa would never call on him again.

“Ah-ah,” Kuroiwa chided. He came toward him, got too close, and cupped his chin, sending shivers down Ayabe’s spine. He didn’t have a choice, but could he really do this? For the millionth time, he racked his brain for another option. 

“Go bathe. You’re filthy.”

Ayabe stared at him for a moment, then sighed. This would only prolong things. And yet, he was kind of relieved at the chance to get away from him again, if only for a little while. 

“...Okay.” He pulled away from him and walked toward the bathroom instead, relieved that Kuroiwa didn’t try to follow him. 

Once he started to soak, he was tempted to further delay things. Here, alone, it felt like there must be some option to escape, something he could see if only he thought about it again, but ultimately he knew it was futile. The longer he took, the longer it’d be before he could get home and make sure every single blind in the place was firmly shut. 

After what he felt was an appropriate amount of time, Ayabe stepped out. He dried himself and arranged his hair as best he could -- it somehow looked even more unkempt than usual, no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it. He donned one of the complimentary bathrobes and, sighing heavily, returned to the room. Kuroiwa was sitting on the couch, jacket and vest off, tie loosened, looking as casual as Ayabe had ever seen him. He had produced a bottle of wine, and two half-filled glasses were set out on the coffee table in front of him. He smiled in that same creepy way as Ayabe approached.

“That’s a little better, isn’t it?”

Kuroiwa gestured for him to sit next to him, and he did, reluctantly.

“You should really shave before you go on a date, though. It’s common sense.” Kuroiwa reached out and rubbed a few fingers along his stubbled cheeks. 

“A _date_?” he asked, nearly choking at the audacity. 

“...Or a rendezvous.” Kuroiwa replied, completely unbothered. 

“Anyway-” he gestured at the glasses on the table. “Why don’t you have a drink?”

He almost took him up on it before he stopped himself. What was he, stupid? 

“Uh, no, I’m good,” he tried. 

“I thought it would help you relax.” There was newly found tension in Kuroiwa’s voice. Ayabe didn’t miss it. 

“No, really --”

“I insist.”

Fuck him for trying to act like he was being considerate. It’s what he always did at work, too. Punish and corner him and pretend like he’s only trying to _help_, while his dark eyes reflected nothing but sadistic pleasure at any chance he had to make Ayabe’s life harder. Screw it, he was done beating around the bush. 

“--What’s in this?” Ayabe asked, not bothering to hide the accusation in his tone. 

Kuroiwa sniffed out a laugh.

“Wine.”

“...Right.” He sighed and ran a few fingers through his hair. He was exhausted by this situation and nothing had even happened yet. 

He glanced over at Kuroiwa, who was examining him thoroughly, like he was an insect under glass, soaking in every detail. Ayabe quickly turned his gaze back down to the floor, a fresh wave of disgust roiling through his gut. 

“This isn’t supposed to be punishment, you know.”

It was Ayabe’s turn to laugh, bitterly.

“Right, it’s just blackmail.” And coercion, that was important, but he was hesitant to verbalize it. He was well aware he could only push so far. 

Kuroiwa’s expression soured. Most likely he’d tried to slip him some roofies. Or maybe some kind of aphrodisiac. Either way, Kuroiwa was crazy if he thought he was about to drink it just like that. 

“You know, I went out of my way to bring this for you. It’s not cheap. Probably better than what you’re used to.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of argument that was supposed to be. Wasn’t he just bragging more than anything? 

“Yeah, still no thanks.”

Kuroiwa’s hand was at the back of his head instantly, faster than Ayabe could hope to react fingers harshly gripping his hair as he brought the glass up to his lips. Little rivulets escaped the corners of his mouth as he forced him to drink. Ayabe struggled, but in his surprise he’d opened his mouth, and as much as he’d sputtered and coughed, he’d managed to swallow a few good mouthfuls. 

“Shit...I knew it…” he coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as Kuroiwa took the empty glass from him, setting it back on the coffee table. 

Kuroiwa’s expression was really off now. He wasn’t sure what to call it. There was lust, now easily identifiable, but something else. It was intense, but instead of the anger he expected to see there, it was eerily calm. Like… enjoyment. Pleasure. His resistance had apparently only fed his sadism. Obedience might actually be his best course of action, but he couldn’t just sit there and smile as Kuroiwa tried to poison him with - whatever that was. 

“Your problem has always been your inability to follow simple orders.”

Kuroiwa’s hand was on his shoulder, prying the collar of the robe back to reveal his bare skin, then pulling further to reveal part of his chest. Kuroiwa’s eyes were trained there now, and he started leaning in, shifting his knees to get closer even as Ayabe unconsciously moved back. 

“If you were more obedient, you might actually be able to rise in the ranks.”

He was hovering over him now, and there was no escape. Kuroiwa’s lips ghosted at the gap between his neck and shoulder, mouthing, licking, until he decided to bite down, not gently at all. 

“Ah-” Ayabe whined, slightly surprised, before he managed to silence himself. He heard Kuroiwa laugh softly, and watched as he pulled back, trying to catch his eye.

“You’re cute, Ayabe-kun.”

His fingers brushed over Ayabe’s lips, still soft and tender after his bath, and moments later he kissed him. It was slow and surprisingly undemanding. He didn’t even try to open Ayabe’s firmly sealed lips. It was kind of -- _romantic_, or would be in any other situation. He allowed him to hold it for a few long moments - but then it was all too overwhelming.

“Stop.” He pushed him away with uncoordinated arms. Kuroiwa looked down at him blankly.

“You don’t like it?”

“Of course not.”

Stop acting nice. Stop pretending you’re with a lover. It’s sickening. 

“Tell me what you do like, Ayabe-kun,” he whispered, lips moving to tease at an earlobe. 

The anxiety that had taken residence in his chest bubbled over at last, and he squirmed away. He thought if he could sneak away with a blowjob, a quickie, he could force his mind to go somewhere else for a while and just get it over with. All this foreplay was making him sick. 

“I-- I don’t like any of it, I don’t want to _do this_,” he finally expressed, creating as much distance as he could with Kuroiwa hovering over him. 

“Why can’t you just take money?”

This time, Kuroiwa stopped. His expression seemed to freeze, almost completely neutral, except for a little bit of wild light still shining in his eyes. 

“I told you. I don’t need money.”

Ayabe closed his eyes, taking a breath to try to fight off his sudden dizziness,disproportionate to the amount of alcohol he’d had. Roofies had probably been right. If he passed out… would Kuroiwa still take advantage? His instincts told him yes, he would, absolutely he would, and it was just another point to add to the laundry list of horrific revelations he’d had today. 

“If you just want to fuck one of your underlings, I can name five people off the top of my head who’d jump at the chance--”

“Ayabe.” There was an unmistakable warning in his voice. This fucker. Propping himself up as some paragon of justice. And absolutely fucking everyone bought into it. Sure, Ayabe might have been a crooked cop, but he could never be on the sheer level of hypocrisy Kuroiwa was operating at. He said it wasn't a punishment, but it was. It was punishment for not worshipping the ground Kuroiwa walked on like everyone else. 

His anger surged right to the top, and he squirmed, tried to sit up, put one hand on Kuroiwa’s shoulder to push him away -- and then it fizzled just as quickly, and he sighed it all away, slumping back into the couch. He simply couldn’t fight him. He’d be ruined. 

“...Just get it over with,” he said, resigned, and he thought his words might be a little slurred but he wasn’t sure. His body was feeling heavy. Maybe passing out would actually be a blessing. 

He waited for Kuroiwa to touch him again, to lathe his body with those mockeries of romance, but nothing happened. When he managed to crack open his eyes again, there was a disturbing half-smile tugging at the corner of Kuroiwa’s lips. 

“You really want to be victimized, don’t you?”

He’d been disgusted before, dread like a weight had nestled its way seemingly permanently into his belly, but this was the first time he felt a tinge of real fear. 

“Do you prefer this?”

Kuroiwa’s hand was at his throat almost instantly. 

“If you wanted me to force you, you should have just said so. No need to bother with all that paperwork. I could have taken you any time I wanted.”

“F...Fuck y--”

Kuroiwa hit him hard across the face, the words dying in his throat. He felt tears spring to his eyes from the pain, and Kuroiwa was smiling down at him with that faux-calm again.

“You don’t live in the best part of town, do you? It would have been simple to drag you into one of those alleys - you wouldn’t even know who attacked you.”

Kuroiwa’s hand flexed on his throat and he couldn’t breathe, gagging, hand relaxing just enough to barely suck in a breath before he did it again. 

“I wanted our first time to be special, but…”

Ayabe’s chest was burning with panic, lack of air, the drug. He could only manage to weakly pull at Kuroiwa’s hand, trembling now.

“This is the only way a dog like you is going to learn.” 

Kuroiwa’s hand relaxed and he coughed out a terrified little sob. He couldn’t catch a breath, could barely even move. 

Kuroiwa wrenched the bathrobe from his body, handling him like an oversized doll. He stood, and then lifted him, bridal style, like he weighed nothing. He knew he was strong, but he never realized how strong, really, not until it was turned on him. 

Kuroiwa tossed him face-down on the bed, straddled him, and handcuffed his naked form in swift and familiar motions. It seemed redundant, considering whatever he’d given him was worming its way further into his system and essentially disabling all coordinated movements. It probably just turned him on. 

He flipped him around again, Kuroiwa’s eyes raking over every inch. Ayabe squirmed, and Kuroiwa gripped his shoulder with brutal force. The minute control he’d had over the situation had withered away to reveal the harsh reality: there was nothing Kuroiwa couldn’t do to him. 

Kuroiwa sunk his teeth hard down into his collarbone, making Ayabe cry out in pain. He held him down as he forced his teeth further, even as he squirmed futilely to get away. 

When he pulled back, there was blood staining his lips. He licked it away slowly, pure satisfaction etched into his features. Ayabe caught his eyes for less than a moment, and saw nothing, nothing there, and it was all that was needed to push a plea out of his mouth. 

“--I-I’m sorry. ...Don’t hurt me. Please.” It was painfully humiliating, but the prospect of Kuroiwa really forcing him was worse. What if he choked him again? What if he beat him? What if he forced his way inside without preparing him? The raw bite on his shoulder was searing, white-hot, but he could still feel the throb from where he’d hit him, too, guaranteed to leave an ugly bruise. 

“Quiet.” 

He raised a fist and drove it into Ayabe’s stomach, spittle and a cry of pain flying from his lips. Ayabe gasped for air, chest heaving, barely able to string together his next few words. 

“No... I’m sorry. I … was wrong, please, I’ll… ah, I’ll cooperate,” he begged, heart pounding. 

Even though Kuroiwa seemed to be enjoying himself, he stopped. He stared at Ayabe for a moment or two, calculating.

“You’re going to do what I say. Understand?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, desperate, trembling.

“Tell me how much you want it.”

He gasped a little for a breath, and realized hot tears had begun rolling down his cheeks, body shuddering with little sobs.

“I really --” his voice cracked. “Want it.”

The tension didn’t quite melt out of Kuroiwa’s body. He smiled at him, and maybe he thought it would relax him, but it came off utterly vicious. He kissed him again, a hand on his jaw, slow and warm, even though Ayabe refused to respond. 

“That’s a good boy.”

If he resisted, he’d get hurt. If he played along with Kuroiwa’s delusions - a delusion that even Kuroiwa seemed to recognize as such - he’d be sweet. Or at least not violent. The situation was so much worse than he’d thought. He kicked himself again internally for letting himself get caught so easily. He’d always hated Kuroiwa, but only because he was perfect. Only because everyone loved him. Now he realized he was right to hate him, but he’d been doing it for the wrong reasons.

Ayabe focused on the pain throughout his body and tried to ground himself, staring at the tacky red walls. The tips of Kuroiwa’s fingers trailing down his inner thighs was too distracting, though. Then he felt his tongue, sliding across a nipple, nibbling just enough to get it to stand. He tried to lose himself in the heady drug-fueled unreality gradually fogging his brain, willing it to work faster, but it only seemed to make the sensations more clear. He was getting turned on. He couldn’t help it. 

“Oh? Are you sensitive there?”

Kuroiwa’s tongue grazed lightly over his nipple once again, forcing out a whimper. 

“A nice, sensitive chest,” he breathed out. “Just like a woman.”

Kuroiwa shifted, lowering himself, sucking and biting wantonly at Ayabe’s nipples until they were sore and aching. He felt Kuroiwa’s clothed erection brush his thigh, and his stomach churned. He wouldn’t say anything else, though, he’d let Kuroiwa say and do whatever sick thoughts crossed his mind, because things could get so much worse. Better this than in the hospital - if Kuroiwa would let him go to the hospital after.

Kuroiwa palmed at Ayabe’s cock, slowly trying to coax him. It half-worked, based on pure physical sensation, but it was far from enough. Kuroiwa seemed to run out of patience quickly, making a small noise of frustration. He paused for a moment to unzip himself then, Ayabe hearing it but refusing to look. 

“Ayabe.”

He heard him moving, and felt those fingers on his chin again. They forced him to turn his head, only for him to immediately be greeted with Kuroiwa’s cock against his lips

“Open your mouth.”

He did as he was told, lips opening to feel the immediate push of Kuroiwa’s cockhead against his tongue. He totally filled him, overwhelming Ayabe and making him choke, almost causing him to struggle on instinct before he caught himself. It would be the worst way to go, literally suffocating on Kuroiwa’s cock. 

Kuroiwa moved his hips, gripping his cheek to gain better purchase. With every thrust he was hitting his throat, and Ayabe made a strained, choked noise every single time.

“Would’ve thought… your gag reflex would be gone by now,” he mocked him as thrust in particularly deeply. It’s like he was daring him to vomit, even as Ayabe was struggling to keep still, keep his teeth away, keep as relaxed as he could as drool pooled and rolled out of the corners of his mouth. He was starting to feel exhausted, weak, ready to fall asleep. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. 

Finally, Kuroiwa pulled out. He had been hoping Kuroiwa would be satisfied with just that, even if it meant swallowing his cum, but he was sadly disappointed. He backed away and lifted one of Ayabe’s legs, spreading him wide. Ayabe was unresisting, limbs feeling like lead and tired, so tired, maybe he _would_ pass out, that would be nice - 

Fingers jammed harshly into his mouth, gathering up some of the leftover spit from early, then just as roughly prodded at his hole. He slipped his two fingers inside, stretching him, but it was hasty and rough, so unlike Kuroiwa’s usual perfectionism. He repeated the process again, then once more, Ayabe registering it hazily, but not truly coming to terms with what was about to happen. 

Only when he felt that cock, achingly hard, standing proud and dark, pressing at him, did he react. 

“St--” 

But then Kuroiwa pushed in, agonizingly, and the only thing protecting Ayabe from the full brunt of the pain as he forced his way into his too-tight little ring was the numbness and exhaustion that had crept its way throughout his body. His protests died, morphed into a whine and a useless squirm as Kuroiwa thoroughly filled him. 

Kuroiwa gasped above him, Ayabe’s eyes opening just long enough to get a glimpse. He was disheveled, hungry, and wasted no time in starting to move, prying a little noise out of the man under him. 

“I’ve waited -- ah -- so long--” Kuroiwa started. “You have no idea.”

All that was left for him was sensation. The jolts of pain at each thrust blurred into each other. His fingers curled into his hands behind him with nothing to grasp, head lolling back. He was nothing, a sleeve, a toy for Kuroiwa to use, he thought distantly. Why did it have to be him? 

He wasn’t sure how long it went on - didn’t really recognize it as Kuroiwa’s pace slipped into frantic desperation. Only vaguely registered some final obscenity that Kuroiwa whispered through grit teeth, fingers digging harder than ever into his thigh and shoulder, and overflowing warmth when Kuroiwa came inside him with a final push.

*********

Ayabe had already passed out by the time he’d finished. Because he was so kind, he’d removed the handcuffs and wiped him down with a warm towel. Now he sat next to him, simply admiring. His face was a mess, pretty dark blues and bright reds mixed with glistening tears and saliva, neck already blossoming with the flowers of his handiwork. The bite, though, was nasty; rivulets of blood had trailed down his shoulder and dried there. It would need to be sanitized so it didn’t cause an infection. The bruise on his stomach looked bad, but he’d been careful not to use enough force to break anything. Altogether, it painted a pretty picture, and no lasting harm was done.

Ayabe’s face like this, defenseless, was a riveting sight on its own. He’d never gotten this close to him while he was sleeping before. He reached out and passed a few fingers through his unkempt locks, and sighed. Tonight had been nearly everything he’d hoped for. Ayabe had given into him so easily, though if he’d just been a good boy and taken the wine when he asked him, he probably would have suffered a lot less. It was his own fault, though, and in some ways, he liked that stubbornness. It made him want to do more. Make him fall even more hopelessly into his grasp. 

He kissed him on the forehead lightly, covered him with the sheets and stood. Now that Ayabe was his, he would be sure to treasure him.


End file.
